Holding More Truths: Parshat Behar-Bechukotai

This week’s double portion, Behar-Bechukotai, concludes Leviticus not with lofty ideals but with a deep recognition of human imperfection. After chapters filled with instructions about holiness and sacred obligations, the final chapter turns to a surprising topic: what happens when someone makes a vow to God and realizes they can’t keep it. The Torah doesn’t shame that person. Instead, it offers a structured way to take that vow back with real cost and consequence, but also with compassion. It acknowledges that we are human, and because we are flawed, we need a process for repair.

That idea has stayed with me through what has been a heavy, painful week. As we mourn the loss of Yaron and Sarah,  murdered while delivering humanitarian aid in Washington. I can’t stop thinking about the words that have been chanted so loudly in recent months: “Globalize the Intifada.” I believe many who joined those protests thought they were standing for justice, not realizing the history and violence embedded in those words. And I keep asking myself: what happens when someone wakes up and realizes what those words really meant? Some things we say, we can’t take back, but I believe our tradition still makes room for repair, for cost, for change.

The deeper question is whether we’re prepared to let people take their words back. Are we willing to create space for someone to say, “I am not part of this anymore”? Or are we too hurt, too exhausted, too angry to allow for that kind of repentance? The Torah’s answer is that return is possible, but not easy. It demands honesty, accountability, and transformation. But it is possible. And I want to live in a world where we don’t write people off forever, where teshuvah, the act of turning, is real.

Ultimately, I believe that what will bring about a safer, more inhabitable future isn’t just strength or conviction… it’s our nuance, our compassion, and our ability to hold two truths at once. We can be in pain and still make room for someone else’s growth. We can demand justice and still believe in redemption. That is the sacred work of this moment. And that is the kind of Torah I want to live by.